“I’d rather talk about whyusis a bad thing,” Drea said with a despondent smile.“She has serious lung problems.She doesn’t have too long.”
“Sorry to hear that, Shortcake.”
“Long-term smoker.”
“Do you have any family here to help?”Cujo couldn’t imagine not having his family around him, blood or otherwise.
“Just my mom’s step-sister, Aunt Celine.She helps occasionally.We get by.”Her tone was flat, but those doleful eyes told him there was way more to it.
“Do you resent looking after her because she’s sick?”He thought back to his own situation and wasn’t sure he wanted to know the answer.
Drea leaned back on the bench, withdrawing her hand from his, and crossed her arms over her chest.
“My mom has always been”—Drea paused, and he could hear the cogs whirring as she came up with the right words—“spiteful.Controlling, maybe.And bitter… life’s been rough on her.It makes it tough to work so hard at making her comfortable when she is so… ungrateful.”
They sat in silence watching Zephyr and Amaya, who were now collecting shells.
“When do you need to get home?”
Drea faced him again.“I don’t.Aunt Celine is staying with mom for the afternoon.Could do with some sleep though.”
The girls wandered over and placed their shells in a line on his thighs.“Well, if you don’t have any plans, why don’t you come home with us?”
“Yeah, come to Uncle Jo-Jo’s.He promised we’s gonna make pizzas.”Amaya bounced on the boardwalk in her bare feet.
“Well, promises are a very big deal.I don’t like people who can’t keep their promise, do you?”
“Nooooo.”The girls squealed in agreement.
“Come on, Drea,” Cujo encouraged.“It’s just pizza.Come with me or we’ll be forced to take drastic measures.”
The girls raced toward the truck.
“You can’t kidnap me.I’m not scared of you, you know!”Drea teased.
“Yeah, well, you scare the shit out of me.”
***
Drea washed the glasses and tried hard to avoid thinking about Cujo showering just down the hall.Bath time for the girls had descended into a maelstrom of squeals and bubbles, leaving Cujo soaked through to the skin.It had been hard to not stare as the white T-shirt became more and more transparent revealing the nipple piercing she’d caught sight of at the beach.
The girls were sleeping soundly.Each wall of the spare room contained a spectacular mural of each season, hand painted by Cujo.
Modern art paintings in clashing colors adorned the white walls of the living room, and Drea wondered if they were Cujo’s own work also.She rinsed the last of the plates and cleaned up the sink.
She felt much better, thanks to the nap she’d inadvertently taken on Cujo’s oversized sofa.He said nothing, simply covered her with a blanket and taken the girls outside to play in the garden.
With a glass of water in her hand, she returned to the sofa.It wasn’t long before she heard a door shut and footsteps shuffle down the hall.
“I got the quotes back from the florists,” she said as he returned to the living room.“Did you want to see them?”
Cujo sat down next to her on the couch.“Shh,” he whispered, “we are not talking about the engagement party.”He squeezed her hand gently, every nerve ending in her body acutely aware of his proximity.
What was it about a guy in great-fitting jeans and bare feet?
Drea sunk further into the blue sofa, the plush fabric and soft padding encasing her in comfort.She turned back to the TV and tried to focus on the closet an attractive home-renovation guy was making.
Minutes later, a commercial break advertised a local bakery, which reminded her.“Did I tell you I found someone to make the cakes?She’s a friend of—”
